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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26329270">of pancakes and pants</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/celosiaa/pseuds/celosiaa'>celosiaa</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>JM + Emma [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Magnus Archives (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, JM adopted a child, Jon has EDS, Jordanian Jon, M/M, arabic-speaking jon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 13:00:56</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>683</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26329270</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/celosiaa/pseuds/celosiaa</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>“I said, isn’t it time for you to go?”  Martin repeats, glancing quickly up and down Jon’s current state of dishevelment, eyes going wide.  “Jon!  You don’t even have your trousers on!”<br/>“Wh—“<br/>Looking down quickly, he finds that Martin is unfortunately correct.<br/>“Errrgggh,” he groans dramatically, tipping his head against the back of his chair.  “I miss teaching online classes.”</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Jon has EDS, and his joints don't appreciate putting trousers on.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>JM + Emma [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1909813</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>133</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Emmaverse AU</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>of pancakes and pants</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/taylor_tut/gifts">taylor_tut</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>hey hey everyone!! @taylor_tut sent me a conversation she and her roommate had, and I couldn't resist writing a little scene about it.</p><p>For those who don't know, this is part of a long-form series about Jonmartin and their adopted daughter, Emma. There will be snippets, oneshots, and multi-chaptered fics spotlighting on their family dynamic! Not all of them will be in order of linear time, so I will be sure to indicate Emma's age in the beginning notes of each fic.</p><p>Emma's age: 8</p><p>("hayati" is Arabic for "my life," and "habibi" means "my love")</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Jon, darling, isn’t it almost time for you to go?”</p><p>“Hmm?” Jon says distantly, turning his head without taking his eyes from the laptop screen.  “What was that?</p><p>Pivoting around with spatula in hand, he sees Martin in his periphery, placing a hand on his hip in an expression that says <em>“eyes on me, please.”  </em>To be fair, there is a lot to distract him—between trying to help Emma hurriedly assemble her project before school, and the constant pinging of his email as students send him questions mere hours before their exam.</p><p>“I said, isn’t it time for you to go?”  Martin repeats, glancing quickly up and down Jon’s current state of dishevelment, eyes going wide.  “<em>Jon! </em> You don’t even have your trousers on!”</p><p>“Wh—“</p><p>Looking down quickly, he finds that Martin is unfortunately correct.</p><p><em>“Errrgggh,” </em>he groans dramatically, tipping his head against the back of his chair.  “I miss teaching online classes.”</p><p>“That is possibly <em>the</em> whiniest noise I have ever heard from you,” Martin chuckles, turning back around to flip Emma’s pancake.</p><p>“<em>Martin</em>,” Jon continues with a grin, keeping his voice as whiny as possible.  “You’re being so terribly cruel, <em>hayati</em>.”</p><p>“Ah yes, that’s me all round, so terrible of me to make sure my <em>husband</em> gets to work on time,” he says, plating Emma’s pancakes and dropping a kiss onto Jon’s head on the way to hand them to her.</p><p>“Thanks Dad!” Emma beams excitedly, popsicle-stick tower nearly collapsing in her haste to shovel large bites of cinnamon pancake into her mouth.</p><p>“Careful, Em,” Jon chides gently, reaching out to hold the tower steady while the glue dries.</p><p>“Sorry, Baba.”</p><p>“Just hurry and finish your breakfast, or you’ll be late,” Jon says, closing his laptop with his free hand to reveal Martin, glaring at him from across the table.</p><p>“I <em>know, </em>I know, I need to hurry too,” he says with a small smile, which Martin tries very hard not to return.  “It’s just that—well, putting on trousers is…actually one of the worst activities for my joints.”</p><p>“It is?  I didn’t know that,” Martin replies, eyebrows shooting up into his hair.  “I-I feel like I should have, I’m sorry.”</p><p>“You’re not a mind-reader,” Jon reminds him, for what feels like the hundredth time.  “And I didn’t say anything before.”</p><p>“Right…right.  Okay, apology redacted, then” Martin says, offering a smile over the mug of his tea.  “Why is it bad for your joints?”</p><p>“When I pick up my leg and then throw it back down through the trouser leg, it tends to throw my hip out of socket.  It’s very frustrating,” Jon explains, and Martin nods with furrowing brows—an indication that he’s determined to come up with some solution.</p><p>“Hmm.  Maybe put your trousers on the floor and step into them, then pull them up?”</p><p>“Cat hair, Martin,” Jon replies, shaking his head with a grimace.  “There would be cat hair everywhere, and I’d have to get out the lint roller <em>again</em>.”</p><p>“Jon.  <em>Habibi</em>,” Martin laughs, a wide grin coloring his tone.  “What kind of life are you living where those things are the same level of inconvenience to you?”</p><p>“A <em>realistic</em> one,” he replies with feeling.  “The cat hair is horrendous, you know it as well as I do.”</p><p>“Alright, alright,” Martin grins, holding his hands up in surrender.  “Well, I can vacuum our room more often, see if you find that <em>acceptable.</em>”</p><p>“So romantic, darling.  You simply must be a poet.”</p><p>“Shut it,” Martin replies softly, taking Emma’s empty plate from the table as she runs off to collect her backpack.  “Go put on your trousers, then.  And please don’t injure yourself.”</p><p>“Anything for you, dear.”</p><p>“Jon, for the love of—”</p><p>“Going, I’m going,” Jon laughs, standing from the table and pecking Martin’s cheek.  “But if I look like I’ve turned into a cat by the time I get to lecture, I’m blaming it on you.”</p><p>“Now, hold on a moment—“</p><p>“Sorry, got to hurry!” Jon shouts as he retreats to their bedroom, closing the door on Martin’s eyes rolling fondly in his direction.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hope you all enjoyed!!!</p><p>If you're interested in seeing some previews of topics to come, hit up my Tumblr <a href="https://celosiaa.tumblr.com/">@celosiaa</a> and search through the #emma tag!</p><p>have a great day!<br/>-love, connor</p></blockquote></div></div>
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